One of the most common questions I get asked is why I continue to swim in open water throughout the winter when what I actually train for is ultra-distance and marathon swims.
The simplest answer? Because I love it. 💙
There is nothing quite like slipping into freezing cold water and feeling the noise of life fade away. The cold demands your full attention. Worries, stress and overthinking all get left on the shore. But winter swimming isn’t just something I do for enjoyment. It also plays a surprisingly important role in how I train for ultra-marathon swims.
So how exactly does swimming in icy water help me prepare for swimming for hours on end?
Continuous and Consistent Training
Winter swimming forces consistency in a way few other things do. When the water is cold, staying acclimatised is crucial — even a 0.5°C drop can make a huge difference to how long you can comfortably stay in the water. That means I have to swim regularly.
This is especially important during winter, when motivation to train can be hard to come by. On days when I don’t fancy a pool session, the need to stay acclimatised gets me out the door anyway. And there’s an unexpected knock-on effect: when spring and summer roll around and I’m faced with a tough pool set, I think back to forcing myself into freezing water. Suddenly, a warm pool session doesn’t seem quite so bad.
Consistency builds resilience, and winter swimming makes consistency non-negotiable.
Preparation Is Everything
Winter swimming demands preparation. The colder the water gets, the more kit I take — and exactly what I pack depends on where I’m swimming, the time of day, the weather, and sometimes even who I’m swimming with.
Forgetting one small item can be the difference between a good swim and a miserable one.
This mindset carries straight over into ultra-distance swimming. Long swims don’t forgive poor preparation. Having the right kit, planning nutrition, and thinking ahead about hydration are absolutely essential. Get it wrong, and the swim will feel harder than it ever needed to be. Winter swimming has taught me to respect the details — because the details matter.
Mental Resilience
When it comes to getting into cold water, I am what’s affectionately known as a faffer. I’m changed and ready quickly, but actually getting in? That takes time.
There’s a lot of internal dialogue involved. I remind myself that the shock response is normal. That I’ve done this hundreds of times before. That the quicker I get in, the quicker I’ll start enjoying it.
Long-distance swimming is similar; just in a different way. When you’re swimming for hours, your mind becomes as important as your body. I talk to myself constantly. I play games, sing songs, break the swim down into manageable chunks. And when things get tough, I remind myself that I’ve pushed through discomfort time and time again, not just in warm water, but in water so cold it feels like thousands of paper cuts on my legs and feet.
If I can overcome that, I can get through this difficult moment too.
Recording, Stats and Balance
Winter pool training is usually focused on technique, speed, and fitness. It’s structured, challenging work, and I use stats from my watch to track progress and improvements. That means every pool session requires focus and intent.
Cold water swimming, on the other hand, gives me balance. Those swims aren’t about pace or distance — they’re about wellness. They bring me peace, freedom, and perspective. They remind me why I fell in love with open water swimming in the first place.
Cold Water, Long Lessons
Winter and ice swimming might look extreme from the outside, but for me, it’s one of the most grounding and valuable parts of my training. It builds consistency when motivation is low, reinforces the importance of preparation, and strengthens mental resilience in ways that no structured training plan ever could.
Most importantly, it keeps my love for swimming alive.
When I’m hours into an ultra-marathon swim and things start to unravel, I don’t just rely on fitness or technique; I rely on the lessons learned in freezing water. The knowledge that I’ve been uncomfortable before. That I’ve stayed calm in chaos. That I’ve chosen to step into the cold, again and again, and come out stronger every time.
And if I can do that, I can keep going — one stroke at a time.